


The Weight of Love

by FancyMeetingYouHere



Category: GOT7
Genre: 100 ways - AU, F/M, Friendship, King Jackson, guard Mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyMeetingYouHere/pseuds/FancyMeetingYouHere
Summary: King Wang Jackson will stop at nothing to bring his wife back, though he failed to understand just what that would mean.(An AU based on Jackson's new song (100 ways) because it's AMAZING!!)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18





	The Weight of Love

His queen is as beautiful in death as she was in life, hair tied elegantly away from her porcelain features and red lips curved into a soft smile. Jackson stands spell-bound, tears gathering in his eyes as he sees his beloved Jian for the first time in three months.

By the deities, how he’s missed her.

“My king,” her voice runs like honey, smooth and soft. Jackson can only smile back, the grime on his face from fighting the four demons necessary to gain access to this cave forgotten in the face of his heart bursting with love

“My Jian,” he whispers. “I promised you death would not keep us apart.”

“And yet,” the voice rumbles like the earth, filling the small cavern that’s illuminated by nothing but Jian’s bright light. There’s a barrier between the living and the dead, an invisible wall Jackson can’t help but lean on. It’s warm.

The figure that spoke stands to the right side. It’s tall, easily two heads above Jackson, wearing a robe that isn’t so much dark as it is nothing. Color and light seem to shy away from it, leaving a blank space shaped like a hooded man. It has no face, nor hands or feet, simply a presence that presses onto Jackson like a tight blanket in a fever-dream. Death is imposing and silent, and not for the first time Jackson is glad Mark accompanied him on this crazy, hair-brained mission of his.

The guard stands a little back to the left, his heavy breathing from their earlier fight the only sound he makes. It’s familiar and soothing in the literal darkness Jackson is attempting to conquer. He takes a deep breath, drawing up to his full length and facing Death head-on. His left hand lingers on the wall, on Jian’s warmth.

“My name is Wang Jackson,” he speaks clearly, trying his best to focus on where he thinks eyes should reside. “I’ve come here to request a deal.”

The room is silent, and Jackson can’t help glance at Jian, at the worried frown he’s dreamed about every night. His smile can’t appease her, the worried lines deepening.

Then Death speaks. “You have come to take something of mine,” it rumbles. “An arrogant king with an arrogant request.” There’s a hidden threat in his words making Jackson freeze. The room grows smaller without changing size, phantom hands shivering along Jackson’s arms. The sound of a sword being drawn behind him stops the roiling of his gut. Jian stands beside him, closer than ever yet ultimately out of reach. He swears he will not leave without her.

“I am not here to be arrogant,” he corrects, staring at the imposing figure with all his will. To show the truth in his words, he raises his right hand to tell Mark to stand down, then slowly gets down on his knees. Jian gasps next to him, rushing to meet his height.

“My love,” she urges, “you should not stay here.”

Jackson stops her anxious words with a heated stare, pouring his love into it. “I will not lose you a second time.”

“You wish to undo death,” the nothing states, “to make a _deal_ , yet fail to understand the price.”

If it had eyes, Jackson’s sure they’d be piercing through his soul. His blood runs cold. “My life for hers,” he guesses hollowly, wondering if fate is truly this cruel.

“No,” Jian begs next to him, and for the first time Mark speaks.

“Your highness.”

He’s spent enough time with his guard to know precisely what the inflection of those words means. It’s worry and a warning, all wrapped within the promise of protection. Jackson once again holds up his hand.

Death hums. It’s closer to the sound of rolling boulders. “Nothing quite that simple.”

“Please,” Jian’s voice gains a note of desperation. “You mustn’t stay here. You will find me again when it is your time, but it is _not_ now. Please, my king.”

“I will not leave without her!” Jackson shouts, ignoring how her words wrap around his heart, how they pierce him and make him tremble. The agony of losing her once cannot compare to the terror of failing twice. “What must I do?”

Death seems to focus on him. “You must pay with something of equal measure.”

“Equal measure?” The words confound him. He steals another look at Jian, heart throbbing at how she’s near tears. With determination he steels his soul, before speaking clearly. “I’ll pay it.”

Mark shuffles behind him. “Your highness,” he says again, this time more urgently. Death only seems to stare, then it hums again.

“Your arrogance tastes of desperation. But if it is what you wish, then your victorious battle has granted it.”

The light in the room flashes, stars bursting into Jackson’s vision and he sways. To shield his eyes, he loses his grip on the invisible wall and he goes sideways. Jian yells out. His heart thunders at the fear he hears in her voice, then another sound comes in. A sword clatters to the ground behind him.

With speed won from countless trainings and battles, Jackson spins on his knees, left arm falling to reveal Mark’s knees buckling. The guard goes down without a sound, nothing but a muffled thud of his body hitting the sand and rocks. He doesn’t move from where he falls, simply lies like a doll with its strings cut, eyes closed.

Jackson can feel his heart in his throat, something clawing its way out. “No, stop!” He turns on Death, notes nothing different, and rages through a sudden coldness in his chest. “What have you done!”

“I have taken my payment,” Death states calmly. “The deal is done.”

Mark’s voice rings out behind him, confused. “Your highness, why am I- oh.”

Jian throws her hands in front of her mouth as she stands, staring painfully at something to her right, something behind Jackson. It takes effort to force his legs up, to stand and turn only to face what his crumbling sanity already knew.

Mark is standing on the side of the dead, eyes strangely focused on his own lifeless body. Then he blinks. “I’m the payment.”

Jackson wants to scream. “No,” he grinds out, staring at Mark as if his will alone can undo this madness. He whirls on Death, all niceties and decorum gone from his actions. “What have you done!” he demands. “You said something of equal measure, something from _me!_ Leave him out of it!”

“Your highness, it’s okay,” Mark tries to interject, but Jackson’s shaking his head furiously before the man can say anything else stupid. He knocks his closed fist into his chest.

“Take something of mine,” he hisses, glaring at the nothing. “Give them back and take something of mine!”

Death stays silent, then says, almost arduously. “I already have.”

It’s an arrow to the heart and Jackson stumbles, breaths heavy as he leans an arm on the wall he wishes would simply break. There’s a voice in his head, something logical and wise that’s connecting dots Jackson doesn’t even want to know the existence of and he squeezes his eyes shut. “No,” he feverishly tries to deny it, shaking his head harder with every repetition. “No, no, no, no!”

But the wall doesn’t give and Death doesn’t speak. A trembling voice to the side breaks through his heartbreak.

“It’s my time, Jackson,” Jian’s smile is heartbreaking in its beauty, tears glistening on her eyelashes as Jackson desperately turns to look at her. “It’s my time to go, and I need you to _let me_ go.”

He leans into the wall so that his forehead presses into the warmth and closes his eyes. “But I don’t want to live without you. Not yet. Not after so little time. We haven’t had enough time, please.” He opens his eyes to look at her, to see the woman he’d give anything to hold again.

His gaze cuts to Mark and he crumbles all over, needs to squeeze his eyes shut as they begin to burn. _Almost anything._

He looks at Death, tears coming freely. “Please, I don’t understand.” Even though he does, even though he realizes with every painful battering of his heart why Mark is standing there. Death seems to know this too.

“Balance,” it states simply. “Both sides of the scale are equal. Now, choose.”

But he can’t. Jackson’s dragging in breath after breath that doesn’t seem to bring in air because he _can’t._ “Please,” he begs again, voice having lost all his usual tone and bravado, his entire being reduced to that of a scared child. “Please, don’t.”

Death stands solemn, no more words tumbling down the cavern walls.

“Your highness, it’s okay,” Mark starts soothingly, his voice low and professional. “If a guard is enough payment then, please, take the queen and leave.”

The words hit all the wrong buttons, slicing into Jackson’s fraying sanity. “I will not leave you here!” he snarls as he whirls on Mark, daring the guard to speak another _dishonest_ word. Mark frowns at him, seemingly unimpressed.

“Don’t come back for my body, your highness. Those demons-”

This time Jackson does scream, slamming a flat hand on the wall soundlessly. Mark doesn’t even flinch though he does fall silent, a dumbfounded look on his face.

“You’re not going to die,” Jackson croaks, hating how he can’t fight the panic in his gut because it’s not anything physical.

Mark frowns. “I’m already dead.”

“No!” he screams at him. “You’re not!” He rounds on Death again, glaring. “Bring him back!”

The nothing shifts. “So, you choose the guard?”

“No, I-” he flounders, reality slipping away when the being in front of him has no discernible features. “Take something else!” he yells, one hand in his hair. “Take _anything_ else!”

“There is nothing else.”

“Your highness, please. If I’m enough-”

“Mark,” Jian cuts him off with a teary voice. “I do not want your death on my hands.”

“But that’s my _job!”_

Jackson’s sanity crumbles and cracks, breaks away from its confines and scatters to the wind. “Enough!” he bellows, throwing his arms out to cut off all conversation. It doesn’t echo, but the small cavern falls eerily silent afterward. Heavy breathing is all that lingers, Jackson’s heavy breathing. The tears have dried on his cheeks but his throat aches as he turns slowly to stare at Mark’s confused expression. Jian is standing nearer to him, face sympathetic and scared as she regards Jackson, then Mark. The latter shakes his head.

“I don’t understand,” he says slowly. “Why won’t you take the queen?” His eyes flick to his dead body, then back up to Jackson, fire burning in their depths as he gains a rigid posture. “I’m just a _guard,”_ he spits with the first hint of anger. “We’re talking about the _queen_. This should not be difficult.”

Jackson nods, unable to disagree with that, because it shouldn’t be. Then he laughs humorlessly, panic crawling up his throat. “Not to me.”

Jian immediately shakes her head, more tears coming down, but Jackson holds up his hand to stop her pleading. Mark simply looks satisfied. With another step closer to the wall, Jackson rests a hand on it, noting there’s a small change now that he’s paying attention. It’s not just warmth anymore, but safety. It’s home.

He looks at Mark and confesses. “You’re not just a guard. Not to me.” It throws the other, even Jian seems surprised, but nothing quite like the risen eyebrows Mark is sporting. It’s almost funny to see the normally unflappable man this out of the loop. With a cracking throat Jackson continues, terrified he’s saying these words for the first and last time. “You’re my friend, Mark. You’ve been with me since I was six, and you’ve never left me alone. You were there when my parents died, when _I_ almost died, and-” it’s painful to watch Mark’s expression go dark and knowing, to see the other bite his lip as if the words harm him. Jackson can’t stop. “And you’re the closest thing I have to a family. To a brother.”

Mark lets out a sharp sigh. “Your highness-”

“Don’t,” Jackson begs with blurry eyes, causing Mark’s to widen. “Don’t call me that. Not right now.”

Mark’s visibly torn, swallowing before carefully sounding out, “Jackson.” It’s one of the few times the man has used his name, and the following sob breaks out before Jackson can stop it, his choice more impossible than ever.

Death seems to notice. “Choose,” it demands. “Take one, or lose both.”

“Stop it,” Jackson begs, leaning his aching head on the wall. “I can’t just choose! I can’t!”

“Take Mark back,” Jian whispers. “Please, my king-”

“Jackson,” Mark interrupts her. It’s completely out of character and Jackson snaps his head to look at him. Mark is smiling. It’s unusual to see, though Jackson is one of the few who can say they know it well enough to close their eyes and picture it. Underneath the fighting skills and perfect demeanor, Mark’s the kindest man Jackson’s ever met. However, there’s something wrong this time, because Mark’s smile is trembling, his eyes wet.

“I’ll miss you too, little brother,” he says warmly, then jumps to the side. Even as Jackson makes sense of the words, as he slams into the wall to scream denials through a hoarse throat, Mark’s already got a hold of the queen. She squirms in his grip, screaming to be let go, but Mark easily grabs her and throws her forward. She falls as if there’s no wall to speak off, like Jackson’s simply the best mime in the country, and within seconds the king and queen are on the floor, once again in each other’s arms.

Jackson hears the echo of a familiar laugh, sitting them both up even as his heart caves. “Mark!” he yells one last time, tears redundant in letting him know he’s still just as broken as he was three months ago, albeit in different ways. Jian cries into his chest, trembling hands holding his sides.

The last thing Jackson sees before the light fades is Mark waving a hand, smile splitting his face even as tears shimmer in his eyes. “Take care of her, okay?”

Then he’s gone. Death swallows up the light before the cavern settles into normal darkness. The only light they have comes from the lanterns glowing much farther in the tunnel behind them. Jackson’s eyes still strain to catch a glimpse of anything, blinking trough his tears as he mindlessly runs a hand over Jian’s shuddering back. Eventually his gaze falls sideways, to the glinting of metal and the body of a man he saw as nothing less than a brother, no matter what decorum said.

Before his breaths can settle he’s breaking, hunching into Jian’s smaller frame as the force of his sobs rocks them both. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into her neck, breathing in her flower scent and holding her warm body to his chest to try and mend the hole in his chest. All he’s achieved is creating a different crack. It’s just as wide and deep, though aches entirely differently. No matter how he looks at it, a piece was ripped out of him. Jian holds him, giving soft kisses to his hair.

Jackson can’t stop apologizing. With the way Mark’s final smile is etched into his mind, he doesn’t think he ever will.

**Author's Note:**

> I AM STILL FREAKING OUT ABOUT JACKSON'S NEW SONG, WHO'S WITH ME!!!
> 
> In other news, guess who got sick ... (whoops). No worries, there's a chance it's not corona (because I'm not at all at risk of dying so they're not gonna test me) but I have been pretty crappy the past few days and only started semi-functioning again yesterday. Hence my little dabble into whatever this is before I dive back into my other fics (I AM SO SORRY THAT I AM SO LATE WITH THOSE!!!!).  
> I hope someone enjoyed this!! (leave a comment if you did ... or didn't, that works too)


End file.
